Thirty five thousand, seventeen days
have passed since a world changed, a
plate of cheese fighting the elements, moved
to a heavier plate. The pretty orange one
whose chip became a crack, left
broken lying next to unwashed
shriveling grapes on un-kept counter
while worms eat through to the core of
waiting granny smith apples in a dusty
fruit basket: once, shiny and green before
decay and gray matter took over. There
is a chance life can be revived with tears
life springs running over the edge of vessels
here and there on the floor-
a house; a home, left to nature, to chance
in torrential storms, or over flow-
of a sink full of dirty dishes
sitting under a ticking clock
hanging next to this years calendar.
© E Stelling
Difficulties mastered are opportunities won- Winston Churchill
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4 comments:
Holy crap. I really loved this one! Like really, really!
This one is a punch to the gut, having witnessed my mom lose a child. Excellent work.
OMG! This is a powerful poem. I'm at a loss for words...
This poem Blueviolet I suspect could fit divorce, depression, and most anything along side losing someone you love no matter a child, parent, sister, etc...
Thanks Farmlady, and Bryan that is how I wrote it, a look at my mother's mental illness too...
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